THE CHURCH IS AFLAME...
The endless span of night is lit by the a small fraction of the base of the dome of the sky. As we approach it becomes brighter, and smoke can be seen obscuring shards of the light from the blaze. Soon we are so close the shadows of the fence are cast upon us, in a thick hatchwork like the bars of a jail.Illuminated from within is the ancient church, its wooden timbers held compressed by a foundation now returning to the open air their energy stored for a millennium, twisting alight and glowing like embers before shattering with a series of pops in the cold sun untouched air.
Our thoughts and hearts come together on a moment of sadness for the old building, a preservation of so much of what was left of our culture of the past now drowning in a plastic interchangeable reality borne of modernity. It had been where many had been baptised, heard their first sermon or being chastized for their first major infraction. Funerals and weddings, kindergarten and day care,
As it burned and the smell of dusty planks and charring parchment filled the air over the meadow, and the heat and the like piqued our senses incongruous in the swelling boundless darkness, our faces remained calm but our hearts were secretly glad for the end of its dominance, its guilt, and the paranoia that had been in the town for as long as the wood of the church.
Solution
Arson
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